She gathered her courage and, setting her umbrella aside, reached for the door handle.
She barely touched it when the woman looked up, over. The smile deepened, polite welcome, so Iona opened the door, stepped in.
And the smile faded. Eyes of smoke gray held so intensely on her face that Iona stopped where she was, just over the threshold.
“Can I come in?”
“It’s in you are.”
“I... I guess I am. I should’ve knocked. I’m sorry, I... God, it smells amazing in here. Rosemary and basil and lavender, and... everything. I’m sorry,” she said again. “Are you Branna O’Dwyer?”
“I am, yes.” As she answered, she took a towel from under the counter, crossed to Iona. “You’re soaked through.”
“Oh, sorry. I’m dripping on the floor. I walked over from the castle. From the hotel. I’m staying at Ashford Castle.”
“Lucky you, it’s a grand place.”
“It’s like a dream, at least what I’ve seen of it. I just got here. I mean, a couple hours ago, and I wanted to come to see you right away. I came to meet you.”
“Why?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I—”
“You’re sorry for a lot it seems, in such a short time.”
“Ha.” Iona twisted the towel in her hands. “Yeah, it sounds like it. I’m Iona. Iona Sheehan. We’re cousins. I mean, my grandmother Mary Kate O’Connor is cousins with your grandmother Ailish, um... Ailish Flannery. So that makes us... I get confused if it’s fourth or third or whatever.”
“A cousin’s a cousin for all that. Well then, take off those muddy boots, and we’ll have some tea.”
“Thanks. I know I should’ve written or called or something. But I was afraid you’d tell me not to come.”
“Were you?” Branna murmured as she set the kettle on.
“It’s just once I’d decided to come, I needed to push through with it.” She left her muddy boots by the door, hung her coat on the peg. “I always wanted to visit Ireland—that roots thing—but it was always eventually. Then... well, it was now. Right now.”
“Go have a seat at the table back there, by the fire. It’s a cold wind today.”
“God, tell me! I swear it got colder the deeper I went into the woods, then... Oh Jesus, it’s the bear!”
She stopped as the massive dog lifted his head from his place at the little hearth, and gave her the same steady stare he had in the woods. “I mean the dog. I thought he was a bear for a minute when he came bursting through the woods. But he’s a really big dog. He’s your dog.”
“He’s mine, yes, and I’m his. He’s Kathel, and he won’t harm you. Have you a fear of dogs, cousin?”
“No. But he’shuge. What is he?”
“Breeding, you mean. His father is an Irish wolfhound, and his mother a mix of Irish Dane and Scottish deerhound.”
“He looks fierce and dignified at the same time. Can I pet him?”
“That would be up to you and him,” Branna said as she brought tea and sugar biscuits to the table. She said nothing more as Iona crouched, held out the back of her hand for the dog to sniff, then stroked it gently over his head.
“Hello, Kathel. I didn’t have time to introduce myself before. You scared the crap out of me.”
She rose, smiled at Branna. “I’m so happy to meet you, to be here. Everything’s been so crazy, and it’s all running around in my head. I can hardly believe I’m standing here.”
“Sit then, and have your tea.”
“I barely knew about you,” Iona began as she sat, warmed her chilled hands on the cup. “I mean, Nan had told me about the cousins. You and your brother.”
